


Dear Diary, or Whatever

by messandahalf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean and Cas admit their feelings, Dean and Cas are on a hunt together, Dean keeps a journal, Dean pranks Sam, M/M, Sam Ships It, Sam jogs for fun, Sam tries to get even, cute and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messandahalf/pseuds/messandahalf
Summary: While Dean is away on a hunt, Sam goes snooping in his room and comes across his brother’s journal. Naturally, he reads it, but finds it’s not filled with what he expected.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 170





	Dear Diary, or Whatever

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the one-shots I have posted on Wattpad. Decided that I wanted to share it over here too!

Sam storms into his brother's room with only one goal in mind. Revenge. Dean had gone with Cas on a simple salt n' burn case a couple hours away, but Sam had elected to stay behind to rest. The brothers had just finished a rather gruelling case only a couple days ago after all. While out on his usual morning run, albeit a little later than usual, Dean had decided to pull a prank on his brother. Said prank being taking random items of Sam's and hiding them throughout the bunker. Now that all his wayward objects were back where they belonged, he intended to get even.

His eyes flick around the room, trying to find something worthy to get back at his big brother with. Nothing too extreme, though, as anything over the top could put one or both of them in unnecessary danger, resulting in injury or even death. As he looks over the bed, a wicked grin spreads over his face. He knows for a fact that his brother still keeps porn hidden under his mattress like an adolescent boy. With that in mind, he takes purposeful strides across the room. Leaning down, he grips the edge of the mattress with a grin and lifts.

His face registers shock when he sees that there are no  _Busty Asian Beauties_ magazines under the thick mattress. Only a black, leather bound journal is hidden away from sight. His conscience is telling him to leave it. There must be something else in this room to torture his brother with, but his fingers are itching to reach out and grab it. Sam chews on his lower lip for a minute before reaching out and gripping the cool leather in his fingers. Dropping the mattress back down, he sets the journal on top of the pillow.

He continues to stand there, staring at the innocent looking book, for a couple more minutes. He's internally debating on whether to go ahead and look through it. On one hand, Dean had obviously hidden it, so that must mean he doesn't want it read. On the other, he kinda, sorta does deserve it. After another minute of hesitation, Sam reaches out and scoops the book back into his hands.

Flipping the thing over in his hands, he scans the cover. It's normal looking enough, but if Dean went through the hassle of tucking it away out of sight then it must be important. With one last breath, Sam flips it open to the first page. It's empty except for Dean's name written in the top right hand corner of the page. Sam automatically reaches out to flip to the next page, but hesitates. A guilty feeling is now swirling in his gut. He knows how he'd feel and react to Dean reading something personal of his. If he kept a journal. Which he doesn't. Sam then remembers getting back from his run and not being able to find his right boot, and his face hardens. Yep. Dean _definitely_ deserved this.

With a new resolve, Sam flips the page. On the back of the page with Dean's name on it, is a bunch of random doodles.  _Huh_. Sam didn't even know that Dean enjoyed something as mundane as drawing. He quickly fans through the pages until he gets to the very back. The last page is covered in little scribbles, like Dean's pen was dying and he was trying desperately to revive it. Sam finds himself smiling at the image of Dean frustratingly trying to get his pen to work. It just seems so...  _normal_. He flips back all the way to the first real entry, but pauses before actually reading anything.

Shifting his eyes up to the wall covered in guns, Sam once again chews on his lip. His conscience is once again eating away at his mind, telling him this is a bad idea. It's an invasion of privacy. He presses his lips into a thin line and snaps the book closed. He's still gonna read it. He just wants some coffee first.

Once in the kitchen, Sam lays the book on the table before heading to the counter. As usual, Dean didn't leave any coffee behind before leaving, and didn't bother to make more. Grumbling under his breath, and now doubly sure that he deserves to read his brother's  _diary_ , he grabs a new filter and slots it into the machine. He dumps the coffee grounds in and hits the power button. The kitchen immediately gets filled by the sound of the coffee machine. The slight whining sound it makes worries Sam a little.

He makes his way back to the table, pulling the book closer as he sinks down into a chair. He flips it open and fans through the pages again a couple times, never stopping long enough on any given page to be able to read anything. As the coffee starts percolating, Sam once again starts feeling guilty. He knows that Dean is gonna be damned  pissed when he finds out Sam read his journal. And he  _will_ find out. Sam has no illusions about that. He's torn from his thoughts as the coffee maker beeps, letting him know that it's done.

He puts the book back down on the table and makes his way back to the counter. A small smile tugs at his lips as he looks at the now full pot.  _'Plenty for later.'_ He thinks, glancing back at the unassuming book. He has a feeling he's going to need quite a bit of it. He pours a mug full, leaving it black, and makes his way back to the table.

With a deep breath, he grabs the book and flips it open to the first page. His eyes roam over Dean's written name once more before flipping to the next page. He lifts his mugs to his lips and takes a small, cautious sip as he reads the first, short entry. It takes exactly two and a half more before he realizes that he's reading all of his older brother's deepest and darkest thoughts.  _About himself._

~~~

Two hours later, and Sam has read every single entry in Dean's journal three times. He's analyzed every paragraph and studied every sentence. Every single brooding word is now burned into his mind. And he feels like shit. Not because he read the damn thing. No, he feels like shit because he never noticed how badly his brother had been doing. He never noticed just how much his brother seemed to hate himself. Sam felt like a failure.

However, as the entires had progressed, they had shifted focus. Although they were still dark and full of self loathing, they now focused heavily on Cas. How he felt guilty over everything that happened to their angelic best friend. How he wished Cas would stick around longer at a time.  _How he was in love with him._

He soon finds himself down in the gun range, methodically going through his weapons and lifting each one up to focus on the target before lowering it to switch to a different one. As his frustration flares again, he lifts the gun currently in his hands and empties the clip into the paper target. All of them hit the mark, divided between the bullseye of the target on the chest and right between the fake paper person's eyes. With a grunt of mild satisfaction, he ejects the clip and slides a new one in. He stares down at the gun in his hands, letting his thoughts swirl once again.

He had itched to write replies to a handful of Dean's more dark and self-deprecating entries. He had wanted to grab his brother and yell at him, shake him, scream until he realized how important he really was. And not just to Sam, but to Cas and Mary and Jack. To everyone around him. He wanted to force Dean to sit and talk things out. He wanted Dean to admit how he felt about Castiel, and not just to Sam but to Cas as well.

He chews on his lip uncertainly as he thinks about the one thing he  _did_ write. On the empty space at the bottom of the last entry, he'd had enough and grabbed a pen to ink in his own words. In a flurry of irritation over how emotionally constipated his brother is, he had written in thick, black ink ' ** _TELL HIM!!!_** ’. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but the longer he thinks about it, the more certain he is that his brother is going to kill him when he gets back home. With a heavy sigh, he pulls the heavy ear protection off his head and sets them aside. His stomach flips as he looks at his phone and already sees a text from Dean stating that he and Cas are done and are already on their way home. Gathering up his various guns, Sam hightails it to his room to await his impending doom.

~~~

Dean is in a surprisingly good mood as he sends Sam a quick text to let him know how the hunt went before turning back to Cas. The angel is already halfway done refilling the grave he'd already dug up, and he wasn't even breaking a sweat. With his back turned to the hunter, Dean allows himself to let his eyes wander up and down Castiel's body. His brain somersaults over itself as he feels that tug of longing on his heart for the fiftieth tome today. It's not even a sexual longing this time either, which terrifies him. This particular feeling is one of craving the angel wholly, but more importantly, craving his love and affection in return.

Pocketing his phone, he returns to Castiel's side to help with the remainder of the grave. He gets a soft smile in return for his efforts and his heart practically sings. He stamps down the feeling in his chest and focuses on merely working. The ghost may be gone, but he isn't going to relax until he's back in his car and on his way home. Thankfully that happens sooner rather than later.

Cas joins him in the front seat, practically glowing at the opportunity to sit in the front while Sam isn't with them. Seriously, he's basically radiating sunshine and rainbows. Dean would tell him to knock it off if he didn't find it so cute and endearing. Not that he's gonna admit to that either. Instead, he ignores Cas' soft smile and sparkling eyes, choosing to start the car and focus on the rumble of his Baby's engine instead. Now  that makes him smile openly and easily.

"It was a good hunt, Dean." Cas remarks beside him. "It's been a while since we had such a cut and dry case." Dean notices that the angel has picked up on some of his vocabulary and speech patterns and has to hide his smile behind revving the Impala's engine.

"Yeah. It's nice to not stay in a shitty motel tonight, that's for sure. Damn beds always leave me a little achy in the morning." Dean flushes slightly at the confession. In his defence, however, the job is strenuous and he  is  getting a little up there in years. Castiel doesn't comment, perhaps knowing that Dean doesn't want to discuss the matter, and Dean is grateful. He shoots his friend a quick smile before slowly pulling out of the hidden space he had parked in near the cemetery grounds.

The drive back is mostly silent except for the music blaring from the radio. Dean loves riding with just Cas, cause the angel never cares how loud his music gets. Sam is always throwing around his bitch face and turning the volume dial way down. Dean loves the kid, but come on. No one turns down AC/DC. It's just a crime against humanity.

Before things can get awkward, not that they ever really do between him and his angel, they're pulling up to the garage at the bunker. "Home, sweet, home." Dean murmurs as he gently eases his precious car into the building. He misses the fond smile Cas shoots his way as the doors close behind them.

They both climb out of the car at the same time, closing the doors gently behind them before moving to the trunk to grab their stuff. Cas lifts their duffels out as Dean grabs a few things from their mobile armoury to clean up. Routine cleaning and maintenance is sometimes the difference between a successful hunt and getting dead. Once the trunk is closed, he grabs his bag from Cas, skin tingling as their fingers brush together. He fights the blush threatening to rise in his cheeks as he leads the way into the bunker itself.

"Honey, we're home!" He calls as he steps into the hallway leading to the map room. He expects to see Sam pop his head out of a door, but nothing happens. "Huh." Dean pauses. Cas stops right behind him, his breath on the back of his neck terribly distracting.

"Perhaps he's in his room." Cas offers kindly. Dean makes a  _hmph_ sound and shrugs. He's not too worried about his brother. Not yet. Right now all he wants is a nice, long, hot shower. Or maybe a nap. He proceeds down the hall and to his room. As soon as he opens the door, he can feel something is off. His eyes scan the room warily as he steps fully inside, pushing the door closed behind him with his foot. Dropping his bags, he walks the perimeter of the room, looking at everything. When he reaches his bed, his blood runs cold. There, on the pillow where it  _should never be_ is his journal. The same journal that he distinctly remembers hiding away before leaving.

Two shaking hands reach out and grasp the leather bound book. He flips it open, skimming through the pages to see if anything has been done to it. He can almost  _feel_ Sam's eyes looking it over and his skin crawls as nausea builds up in his stomach. When he gets to his last entry, his eyes are drawn to the bottom of the page. There, in Sam's handwriting are two distinct, large, bold words.

**_ TELL HIM!!! _ **

He doesn't need to flip through the pages to know what Sam means. He read his journal, and now he knows everything. He knows how bad Dean has gotten. How dark his thoughts have become. How much he blames himself for everything single horrible thing that has ever happened to his loved ones. He knows that he's in love with their best friend. He blinks down at the dark ink, body slowly starting to tremble.  _'How dare he.' _ Dean growls in his head. Dropping the book back onto his pillow, he turns on his heel and marches right back out of his room.

"SAM!" He roars as he storms down the hallway, shower and nap forgotten. He makes a beeline for Sam's room, satisfaction filling his gut at the light shining through the crack under the door. He doesn't bother knocking, just throws the door open and glares at his brother. Sam, for his part, looks half terrified and half guilty.

"Dean, before you get too mad, just know that I didn't intend to hurt you." Sam says, lifting his hands up, palms facing Dean to ward off any potential attacks. Dean growls, actually  growls, and lunges forward. Sam narrowly dodges the punch thrown his way, quickly blocking the next one too.

"Weren't trying to hurt me?!" Dean yells incredulously, throwing another punch that almost hits the mark. "What did you think reading my private stuff was gonna do, huh? If you wanted to know something, you could've  _asked_!" He chooses instead to shove his brother, and Sam stumbles back a few steps.

"Ask you?" Sam cries. "Dean, you never talk! Whenever I ask anything the answer is always the same. You're fine, or you don't wanna talk about it! How do you think  I  felt when I found out how bad my brother has been feeling, and he never even  told me!" Dean sneers at his brother, but makes no move to attack him again.

"Doesn't makes snooping through my stuff okay." He grumbles venomously.

"I know, Dean, and I'm sorry. I was trying to get even for this morning, and when I went to find your porn stash I found your journal instead. I got curious and I just couldn't help myself." Dean frowns and looks away. He never wanted to Sam to know how he felt day in and day out. Hence why he kept it written down and  _hidden_. The bastard.

"You obviously read everything." Dean says, voice quavering just slightly.

"Yeah." Sam sighs, running a hand back through his hair. "I meant what I wrote, Dean. You need to tell him." Dean tenses up, finally looking back at his younger brother.

"Oh, yeah, and exactly what would I say?  _'Hey, Cas, caught any good hunts lately? By the way, I'm madly in love with you.'_ Over my dead body, Sam." He grinds out through gritted teeth, frustration and irritation at his brother growing once more. However, he feels his entire body freeze as Sam's eyes focus on something over his shoulder as his face pales. Slowly turning around, he sees exactly what he was dreading would be there.  Cas.

"Uh..." The angel looks uncertain, eyes flicking between the two brothers. "I heard shouting and came to make sure everything was okay." His gaze focuses solely on Dean, and the hunter feels his skin heat up under the scrutiny.

"I'm assuming you heard all that." Dean says, not bothering to voice it as a question. Castiel nods silently. "Fuck." Dean breathes, reaching up to scrub at his face with both hands. Cas tilts his head in confusion as he studies Dean's face. Sam clears his throat behind them, making Dean look over his shoulder. As Sam catches his brother's eyes, he lifts an eyebrow, giving Dean a very pointed look. Reluctantly, he turns back to his friend. "Perhaps we should go somewhere to talk." He mumbles, feeling dread fill his bones.

He hears movement behind him moments before Sam lays a hand flat on his back and shoves him toward the door. Dean looks back at his brother and growls again as he stumbles forward.  _Bitch_. The moment he's over the threshold, the door is slammed shut in his face. He fights the urge to turn around and snarl at his brother through the heavy wood. Castiel's light touch on his elbow pulls his focus away from his pain in the ass, nosy, meddling, little brother.

"Alright, Let's do this then." Dean sighs heavily, turning and leading the way back to his own room. Cas follows close behind, still not understanding the concept of personal space, even after all these years. Something, Dean notes, that he doesn't seem to have an issue with regarding Sam. His heart flutters at the thought, and Dean immediately scolds himself. He's not a pre-teen girl with her first crush, damnit.

When they reach his room, he opens the door and invites Castiel in first. With one last look back the way they came, he doesn't want his brother listening in on this conversation, he follows the angel inside the room and closes the door behind him. As soon as it's clicked shut, Castiel turns sparking eyes his way.

"Did you really mean it?" He demands softly. Dean screws his face up as if he bit into something sour. This was  not the way Cas was supposed to find out about Dean's feelings for him. Hell, he wasn't  supposed to find out at all. He reaches up a hand to rub bashfully at the back of his neck.

"Uhm..." He falters, hesitating. He looks up into Castiel's eyes and feels something shift into place inside him. "Yeah." He breathes. "Yeah, I meant it." Something shines in Castiel's eyes, but Dean doesn't get the chance to properly decipher  _what_. One moment they're standing a few feet away from each other, and the next, Cas has Dean pressed back against the door. Dean's heart beats erratically in his chest, and he's sure that Cas can feel it. He squirms slightly as Cas intently looks over his face, eyes settling on his lips for a moment before flicking up to meet his.

"I love you too, Dean." He says quietly. The words hang in the space between them. Dean lets out a breath he didn't even realize he had been holding, skin prickling hot as Castiel shivers slightly. Their eyes stay locked in some kind of stalemate, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Dean finally gets frustrated and fists his right hand in Castiel's hair and pulls him forward into a brutal kiss. The angel quickly kisses back, pressing forcefully against the hunter. They stay like that, locked together, for a couple minutes before Dean pulls away to breath.

"Shit, Cas." He groans, letting his forehead fall against Castiel's. Cas smiles in return, one of his rare, gummy smiles that crinkles his eyes and practically emits rays of sunlight. Dean can't help himself as he presses another quick kiss to the angel's lips. It's awkward due to Castiel's smile, but it makes his chest squeeze pleasantly anyway. "We really do need to talk properly, but I'm really hoping it can wait until  after  I catch a few hours sleep." Dean looks up into Castiel's eyes hopefully. Cas smiles back softly, eyes fond.

"Of course, Dean." He steps back, out of Dean's space, but the hunter doesn't let him go far. Instead he pulls Cas with him to the bed, making him toe his shoes off and climb into bed beside him. Dean immediately curls into Castiel's side, not even caring that he's tainting his masculine image. Cas wraps a warm and comforting arm around his shoulders, pulling him somehow closer. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Sleep, Dean. We will talk later. I promise."

And that's exactly what Dean does, fingers curled in the folds of his angel's trench coat. He's never felt safer, nor slept more soundly, in his entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> I am officially now on tumblr! I suck at technology, so you’ll just have to go the old fashioned way of looking up: messandahalf10 😂


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